


Arthur's Clothing Kink

by lolahardy



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Clothing Kink, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:45:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolahardy/pseuds/lolahardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames dresses up. Arthur salivates. </p><p>Written for a-forger-and-a-point-man</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arthur's Clothing Kink

Arthur worried as he adjusted his bow tie for what had to be the millionth time. 

He had seen Eames in his absolute worse - sick with the flu and then slowly recovering wearing worn in forest green sweats that would have been a little appealing in the way they hung so tantalizingly low on his hips. But they weren’t because he would often pair them with a faded, stained beater. Coffee stains, tea stains, food stains, toothpaste stains all marked the front of the once white (now more of an off grey) undershirt and that wasn’t even the worse thing he wore with those forest green sweats with the hole in the knee and paint stains around the thighs and hem of legs. Some times he wore them with a light grey tourist shirt, the UK flag faded and cracked on the chest, the head hole wide and loose from multiple wear, a hole in the armpit, the hem frayed and splitting open. 

Arthur hated that shirt. He hated those sweats too. But he would sigh and leave it alone, especially since Eames only wore them at home when it was just the two of them.

When they were out and not working, his choice of clothing was some times no better. Eames often looked like a thug, a chav, especially when he didn’t shave and had day old scruff around his face and lazy bed hair that was hidden under a baseball cap. He wore baggy jeans he still sagged (Oh, god…) loose, although clean, t-shirts, hoodies, pull overs and puffy jackets. 

When they worked, Eames’ suits were often ill fitting. At least to Arthur - who had a personal tailor on his phone - they seemed ill fitting. The coat was often too big and boxy, the bottom of his pants hung low past his shoes, the pleats were often non existent. It was almost as if he bought them off the rack, made to look nice at a glance.

Arthur understood that Eames just didn’t care and not everyone trailed Fashion Week religiously and understood the importance of textiles and why paisley shouldn’t be worn in more than one piece at a time and why a little color in a dark suit was a nice touch though not always needed. He did understand and he didn’t expect Eames to suddenly up and care, even when it was important. 

Eames would however, give into Arthur’s plea to let him dress him.

Some times.

He would sigh and roll his eyes and then smile as Arthur took him shopping, holding up henleys, oxfords, cashmere vests and proper sized jeans against Eames. Because Eames loved him and understood what this meant to Arthur, he would tolerate it.  
And sometimes he would even wear what was chosen for him - his own touches here and there mingled in with Arthur’s chosen wardrobe. 

That night was important to the both of them. Arthur never thought of himself as sentimental but he also never thought he would love a man who wore sky blue sweatpants pulled up to his knee and a t-shirt he outgrew in public when he went out the shop to pick up milk. 

It was their anniversary and Eames had planned something nice for them and didn’t tell Arthur all the details - only that the first thing they would be doing was going to the opera. 

Arthur was well prepared for the New York Metropolitan Opera House, suits and tuxes nearly his everyday wear but Eames…Eames was a different story and he faintly wondered just what he was planning to wear.

As he finally finished his bow tie, he leaned back from the dresser mirror just as he heard the bathroom door opening and Eames stepped out to Arthur’s shock.

Eames had on the Tom Ford suit Arthur picked out for him a while ago - gunmetal grey wool, single breasted, high waist coat. The pants were double pleated, cut perfectly to fit him perfectly around his waist, thighs and ass. The leg cuffed and hemmed right above his black alligator loafers. Underneath he had on a classic white oxford, pressed and bright with French cuffs. His tie was charcoal, darker than the suit itself, silk with a check pattern, an iron and white pocket square folded in a thin line fold in his pocket. 

Eames had shaved and combed his hair, parting it on the left side and he only paused as he held one gold cuff link in his hand. He held up his cuff link-less arm up as he said,

"My love, could you help me with this? I can’t quite-"

He cut himself off as he saw Arthur standing still, his jaw slack, his eyes wide, his throat bobbing slightly as Eames looked down and then back at Arthur.

"What? No good? You don’t like it?"

Arthur shook his head slowly and then picked his jaw up as he swallowed hard.

"No, it’s not that. It’s just…you look amazing."

Eames grinned at him as he said,

"Cheeky bastard. You picked this out."

"But you wear it well."

Eames walked over to him and gave him the cuff link as he said,

"Well I’m glad you’re ready. I just need this and we can go. We don’t want to miss the show."

"Do we have to go?"

Eames looked at him seriously now, watching Arthur slowly work the cuff link in his sleeve.

"Oh? Since when do you want to miss a show at the Met?"

"Since you look this good. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the night."

"Why, Arthur. I’m shocked at your implications."

"You’ll be more than shocked when I get you home tonight."

He smiled slightly, finishing the cuff link, his cheek dimpling as Eames raised an eyebrow at him though he smiled too.

"You’ll make me cut the evening short tonight."

"Well…maybe we can take the edge off before we go."

"Oh?"

Arthur nodded, leaning in to kiss him slowly before slowly kneeling down in front of him. Eames shivered as he watched him go as he said,

"Careful pet. You’ll ruin your suit. And mine."


End file.
